Never Quite Done
by Zellcan'twrite
Summary: Alistair's work as a floor proctor is never quite done, not even at three in the morning when one of his floormates is locked out (again). College AU featuring Harry Sullivan as a hapless student and the Brigadier as his long-suffering proctor. Oneshot.


**Never Quite Done**

 **Author's note:** _I really don't know what to say about this piece. I wrote it fairly quickly a few nights ago in between study sessions. Now that I'm in college myself, I find it somewhat entertaining to imagine all my favorite characters in a similar situation._

 _As usual, I have marked a few things in this fic with_ _a symbol like this:_ **[x]**. _I've included a few comments at the end of the fanfic on each of these subjects. Most of them are simply my thoughts on the matter._

 _Anyway, here's the story. Enjoy!_

* * *

There were many days and nights when Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart intensely regretted his decision to sign up as a floor proctor **[1]**.

He had wanted to help out his college and the students whose home it was, and could think of no better way to offer his services. What was more, as a first-year proctor, he had the chance of helping out the students who were often the most in need of it. Alistair, as a student with few interests outside of his classes and a natural predilection for authority, was perfect for the job.

If it weren't for some of his more… _colorful_ floor residents (which, come to think of it, was most if not all of them), he would be fine. As it was, the stunts they managed to pull baffled him with their ingenuity and improbability. Just last week, three separate students had managed to set off the fire alarm, two nerf gun wars had broken out in the corridors, he'd had to call in a hazardous waste removal team, and his floor had rated him the sexiest of the first-year proctors by a rather wide margin. By that logic, every girl and perhaps a few of the boys on the floor was attracted to him, something he did _not_ enjoy thinking about **[2]**. It wasn't as though he didn't care for each and every one of them in some form or other (yes, even Liz), it was just that they were somewhat frustrating.

And so, when he was woken up at three in the morning by someone knocking on his door, he honestly didn't know why he was surprised.

Sighing, he climbed out of bed and, half-asleep, stumbled to the door. Pulling it open, he came face-to-face with a very tired-looking student. Seeing him now, Alistair realized that it could have been no one else. After all, pre-med students were infamously laden down with work, and Harry Sullivan was no exception. How he had been approved for a pre-med program considering his reputation as something of an imbecile was anyone's guess, but the fact remained that he was one **[3]**.

"What is it, Harry?" Alistair asked, eyeing him. It looked as though the younger student was just returning from a war rather than a rather late night of studying. His curly brown hair was disheveled, his blue eyes were half-lidded and decorated with dark circles below them, and he looked rather pallid. What was more, his usually-immaculate blue jacket and pants were both rumpled and there was a smear of what looked like coffee along one sleeve.

"I say, I'm sorry about the hour," began Harry in an earnest tone. "I've been looking for other proctors and to see if they're awake, but no one else is up." He yawned.

"And?"

"I forgot my power cord again."

"Power cord?"

"…I have no idea why I said that, Alistair. I meant my room key. I forgot it again."

The proctor exhaled slowly, doing his best to hide his exasperation. Harry forgot his room key frighteningly often, though he usually relied on his roommate to let him in. Why he hadn't tonight, Alistair didn't know.

"Where's your roommate, Harry?" he asked as he walked back into his room, turning on the lights and, momentarily blinded by the sudden brightness, started groping around for his own key.

"Sleeping over at a friend's," he sighed, making no move to follow Alistair into the room beyond. "Over at Christie Hall, across the campus." **[4]**

"Hmm," was all the slightly older student could think to say in response. To be fair, he was still half-asleep. Finally, he found his own key and, taking it in one hand, walked out into the hall and motioned Harry to follow him.

"I say, I _am_ sorry," said Harry again. "I hope you're not too tired."

"Not to worry," said Alistair, setting aside his own personal feelings of annoyance for the present. Even if he was entirely too tired right now, he wouldn't berate poor Harry on the point.

"Oh, dear. I forgot two of my books at the library," Harry suddenly realized aloud as they were halfway to his room.

Alistair did his best to count to ten. Berating poor Harry for stupidity was starting to seem like a tantalizing course of action. Thankfully, it seemed that for once, Harry was one step ahead.

"I really _am_ an imbecile sometimes," the boy said ruefully. "This is the third night in a row I've done that. Well, strictly speaking, third morning, but-"

"Are you always up this late?" Alistair cut him off, suddenly seizing on an idea. Harry simply nodded.

 _No wonder the poor boy's so forgetful_ , thought the proctor. Aloud, he simply said, "that's not the best for you, you know."

"I do," agreed Harry, covering up a yawn again. "But I want to finish my work."

"And how can you do it running on-say, when do you wake up most mornings?"

"Seven."

"-on four hours of sleep?"

"…don't know. But it _is_ taking a bit of a toll."

 _Certainly an understatement_ , thought Alistair to himself wryly. He said nothing aloud, however.

"Perhaps I ought to go back to the library," mused the boy. "And get my books, I mean."

"No, no, Harry," the proctor brushed him off. "You need sleep more than you need your books."

By now they were standing in front of his door. Alistair used his own key on the room, then pushed the door open. Harry gave him a tired but rather grateful smile.

"What about my books?"

"I'll have it taken care of for you by the morning," replied the older student. "Now you really do need your sleep."

"I say, you _are_ a brick," said Harry warmly, then put his hand over his mouth to cover up yet another yawn. The other found himself smiling himself, both at the compliment and at the sight now that his fellow student was back within his dorm and would be resting within a few minutes. "Goodnight, Alistair."

"Sleep well, Harry. And _do_ invest in a key holder."

The younger man nodded tiredly and closed the door.

Alistair turned around and walked back to his room to get dressed. He was hardly going to be taking his unexpected trip to the library to retrieve two books in his pajamas.

* * *

 **Author's note:** _Alright, bear with me here. This might eventually become part of a larger universe involving college-age versions of most companions and significant supporting characters. I figure each of the Doctors would be professors of some things or other. I particularly like the images of Eleven trying to deal with students only slightly younger than he is, Four offering his students jelly babies and rambling on for hours, and One being that one professor everyone's afraid of having but ends up adoring once in his class. Here's hoping I can think of a few more. If you've got any ideas as well, feel free to send them my way!_

 _Anyway, in this universe, I can_ totally _see Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart in some sort of authoritarian role, probably one which would involve him dealing with silly first year antics with his long-suffering attitude. I did my best to balance his level of frustration with his actual sense of affection for Harry (and anyone else under his care); I hope that came across._

 _Meanwhile, Harry, as a doctor in the Whoniverse, would probably be a pre-med student. Also, apologies if it seemed like I was picking on him a bit in-story. I like him just as much as any of the other companions, and figure that his reputation as an idiot is a bit inflated. If it makes any of you feel better, I've locked myself out of my room a few times already as well. So Harry isn't alone there!_

 _Alright, here are those footnotes. Does anyone actually read these?_

 **[1]:** I don't know how it works at other colleges (or even fully how it works at mine!). What I know from my own limited experience is that each first-year floor here at my college has both a proctor and an RA. The former lives on our floor, and is basically there to help out. Also, just a minor detail, but in my dorm, the rooms are all only for two people. Thus, it's the case on this floor as well.

 **[2]:** For whatever reason, I find the idea that the Brigadier (or, in this case, Alistair) is the source of so much...attention to be hilarious. And probably not entirely accurate within canon, but hey. I've seen enough among fellow fans to plant the idea in my head!

 **[3]:** I'm not a pre-med student, so I have _no_ idea how the track works, if it's even available to first-years right out of the gate, or anything of the like. Please correct me if you see any glaring mistakes with my rather sparse portrayal of the life of a pre-med student.

 **[4]:** This is actually an oblique reference to a character from another fandom. I don't know whether, when and if I would add to this universe, I would actually include him as Harry Sullivan's roommate. Or even if I would include this other fandom at all. Or why a character who has never appeared in the Whoniverse and likely never will is at a dorm populated by _Doctor Who_ characters. However, just out-of-universe, I figured that he and Harry would probably be the best of friends. If you can figure out (or even have a guess to) the fandom, please add that in a review!

 _Well, I hope you enjoyed it, and please review! If you have a better idea for the title, please share it with me! I'm terrible at coming up with those...Thanks!_


End file.
